Starlight Reflected
by Moonraykir
Summary: During a last night watch in Erebor, Kíli thanks his brother for having given up a homecoming to remain with him in Laketown and reveals that the elf woman who healed him also captured his heart. One Shot, Deleted Scene.


Kíli paused in the midst of refilled his pipe to glance up at the stars that shone, so bright now that the last of the sunset had faded, above the mountain vale. He and his brother were taking their turn at watch atop the hastily constructed rampart at the entrance to the halls of Erebor. Was Tauriel looking at those stars, too, from some distant hill or treetop? He finished lighting the pipe and looked back to watch Fíli, who ranged the top of the wall, his quick strides betraying his impatient energy.

He wondered if they'd ever live down not being there when their friends and kin had entered the mountain. For all that he had desperately wanted to be with them when they looked for the first time upon their home reclaimed, Kíli had to admit he was glad he'd remained in Laketown. From the others' account, their homecoming had been perilous indeed; wounded and sick as he had been, Kíli knew he wouldn't have been able to keep up. He would have to content himself with his friends' energetic retelling of how they'd tricked Smaug into setting his own trap and leaving his hoard. And, while Kíli wasn't exactly grateful for his injury, well, it had given him the chance to see _her_ again, to learn that she thought of him. And that was something for which he truly was thankful.

"Fí," Kíli said as his brother neared him where he sat atop an empty storage crate, "Thank you for staying behind with me. I know you wanted to be here." He grinned, and his serious tone gave way to his usual, lighter one. "You'd have been no good without me, anyway. I'm practically indispensable. I mean, look at my work with those ponies," he finished, somewhat smug.

"Our work, you mean." Fíli cuffed him playfully. "You wanted to be here as badly as I did," he continued, earnest now. "It didn't feel right, watchin' Thorin and them leave without us. But I'm glad you're healed." Fíli didn't say it, but Kíli knew that his elder brother was also thinking: _we would've lost you if you had come._

Kíli shrugged away the gloomy thought. "Nah, well, there's wonders and there's wonders. We got to see some elvish magic in Laketown." He smiled to himself, remembering the way she had shone, standing above him and speaking those lovely, lilting elvish words that had saved his life and captured his heart, as surely as if they'd been a spell woven to entrap him.

"Magic or no, there's another reason for that besotted grin of yours," Fíli prompted.

Kíli took a draw at his pipe and tried to settle what he knew was a telling expression from his face. "In Mirkwood... Didn't you notice her then, the elf woman with green eyes and hair like burnished copper?"

"Green eyes?" Fíli chuckled. "You looked more closely than I!"

"She talked with me," Kíli explained. "And, well," his tone changed from one of mock protest to one of amused confession, "I might have flirted with her."

Fíli clapped him on the back. "My little brother, flirting with an elf!"

"Well, she was beautiful!"

Fíli's laughter faded. "Aye, she was, if you like the tall, willowy sort," he said thoughtfully. Personally, he preferred girls with a little more figure, but he wasn't going to deny that willowiness had a certain appeal. He and his brother had never liked the same girls back home, anyway, a fact that each had secretly been grateful for.

Kíli continued earnestly, "And she's proven she's kind and strong and brave."

"And a sorceress," Fíli prompted teasingly.

"Right," Kíli sighed, his expression contemplative. "When Tauriel prayed over me in her elvish tongue, it was like— Like I could see into her, and all the light of the stars came shinin' through, from another world. I've never seen anything so lovely."

Whatever he had seen, Kíli surely had stars in his eyes as he spoke of her now, his brother noted.

"And Tauriel... Does she care for you?" Fíli had no need to ask what his brother thought of the elf. Even if he would not have heard Kíli's fevered, yet earnest declaration the night she had saved him, he had surely seen the way his brother had looked at her that morning on the lake shore.

Kíli's mouth quirked into a smile. "Yes. Maybe. It's more than I dare to hope! I don't know," he finished, abashed even before his brother. He looked down at his hands and fiddled with his pipe. "When we parted, I promised I'd find her again. It was foolish, I know." He looked up at Fíli, his eyes all earnest hope and desire. "But I wish, above all things, to see her again once this is over." He paused for a moment, then went on hesitantly. "I— Well. I might as well say it: I love her."

"Did you tell her?"

Kíli nodded. "I did. And I think she understands."

"You 'think'? What _did_ you tell her?"

"I told her she is my love," Kíli said, matter-of-factly, as if the answer were obvious.

The Khuzdul word he had used, _amralimë_, was unequivocal, expressing no light affection, but true attachment among their kind. But the elf couldn't have known that, could she? Fíli smiled; his brother's was an odd way of wooing, but then Fíli had always had something of a poetic turn.

"But are you really sure she could think of you that way? I mean, she's immortal!" Fíli persisted. He didn't want to crush his brother's hopes, but still less did he want to see him hurt. "She may be fond of you, but... Can she really mean more than that?"

Kíli's expression as he answered was thoughtful. "I... I do not think she would give me false hope."

"And has she given you any?" The question rose as much from fraternal curiosity as from a sense of protectiveness; the last thing Fíli wanted was to see his little brother lay his hopes on something that proved no more than a dream.

"No, not in words, but..." Kíli paused, searching for his own words to describe what he knew. "But in the softness in her eyes when she looks at me. The way she does not take her hand from mine till I let go of hers. The way she moves her lips to speak, and then says nothing, either to answer me or to tell me I'm a fool." He met his brother's eyes as he finished, and Fíli could see that Kíli knew very well how foolish he was to have declared his love to an elf woman, and yet how very much he wanted to be proven right in his hope.

Kíli sighed, and added as an afterthought, "She took my runestone."

Fíli's eyes widened slightly. The stone had been a gift from their mother, a talisman to remind her youngest son, whose eyes were filled with the adventure that lay ahead, how much it mattered that he bring himself safely back to her. That Kíli had given it to Tauriel was proof that he'd realized the adventure did not end in Erebor, that there was more to hope for beyond the end of their quest. Fíli suspected that was what their mother had wanted from him, fearing that her youngest would be so swept up by the romance of their undertaking that he would heedlessly throw away his life for its fulfillment.

"You know I'm not entirely of Uncle's opinion that every elf is faithless and untrustworthy," Fíli began slowly. "Elrond and his kin were very gracious to us. And not even all Thranduil's folk must be as harsh as he." He had resented the Mirkwood elves for the perfunctory thoroughness with which they had captured, searched, and imprisoned him, but even then, he'd been half aware that his feelings came as much from the fact that he'd been unable to deny their warrior's efficiency and skill. He supposed that, under more friendly circumstances, one could find other qualities to admire in them, as well. As little as he had initially wanted to trust his brother's life to her, Tauriel had offered the help that no one else would. And if that were not the only kindness she had shown Kíli...

Fíli smiled then. "Well, if she gives you an answer, the one that you hope for, I'll take your side." If this ever came to their uncle's ears, Kíli would surely need someone to stand behind him. And as much as Fíli was generally inclined to follow Thorin's example, in this instance, all he saw was his little brother's happiness. "If she really does love you, I wouldn't care about her pointy ears."

Kíli nodded his thanks. He knew they weren't out of the woods yet, as Mr. Baggins was fond of saying—an expression that seemed particularly apt, given the way their own encounters with trees and forests had gone so far. There was like to be more fighting before this was over, and he, or even she, might not make it back. But the promise he had made her strengthened his heart. It was good to have something to hope in. And someone to share that hope with, he added to himself as he caught Fíli laughing at the foolish grin that had already broken out again on his own face.

* * *

Author's Note:

I wrote this as a sort of prequel scene to my Kíli/Tauriel AU fic_ A Gift of Fire_ because I wanted to give Fíli's opinion of the possibility of a relationship between Tauriel and Kíli. As an elder sibling myself, I can well imagine that Fíli's first concern regarding his little brother's love for Tauriel would simply be whether she returns his love. I'll admit I have no practical experience of whether guys talk about this kind of thing amongst themselves! However, I know for a fact that close siblings _do_, so I don't think this scene is a stretch.


End file.
